No Less Elaborate
by kaydee falls
Summary: AIDAfic. Every story is a love story...not just Aida and Radames's. Part 2 is up
1. Jackals -- Nehebka

DISCLAIMER: none of them are mine. sigh. talk to Disney.  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: my first AIDAfic! sadly, i do not have this musical memorized, so there may be some small inconsistencies...my apologies in advance.  
  
No Less Elaborate  
by kaydee falls  
  
-----------------------------------  
PART 1: Jackals -- Nehebka  
  
Aida was always the lucky one. She was the princess, the most beautiful, the wisest, the liveliest, the strongest. And everyone loved her for it. We never envied her; we couldn't. Not even I. She was my princess, my mistress, my friend; and I loved her. Was it Aida's fault that we were all captured by the Egyptians? It might have been, but it didn't matter. We still looked up to her as our ideal, our leader, our one hope. Even when the others began to doubt, I continued believing in her, and I encouraged them to do the same. They listened to me, because I would have followed her to the ends of the earth. I would have done anything for her. I loved her.  
  
But I loved him more.  
  


* * * * *  


  
I don't know that I would call it love at first sight -- more of a kinship than a love. But it was certainly at first sight. It was just after we had arrived in Egypt, having been abducted from our home. Slaves. It was a bitter word on my tongue, and I refused to utter it. To admit to my servitude would be to give in to it, and that I could never do.  
  
But whether I admitted it or not, I was a slave. All of us were -- the princess of Nubia's handmaidens and friends. We walked in a sullen line, shackled, being inspected by stone-faced Egyptian guards -- Egyptian filth.  
  
Where are you taking us? I hissed at the soldier beside me.  
  
He backhanded me viciously, and smirked when a muffled cry escaped me. Never question an Egyptian, slave. You're going to the copper mines. He grinned like the jackal he was. You'll learn quick enough there.  
  
Defiantly, I looked away from him. The leader of those jackals, the man who had stolen us from the shores of Nubia, was looking over us, as if he were judging us. His glance was scornful, cruel.  
  
Suddenly, he fixed his cold eyes on the woman in front of me -- Aida. She refused to meet his eyes, proudly pretending to be unaware of his scrutiny. Perhaps that pleased the Jackal, or perhaps he didn't even notice; he chose her all the same, pulling her out of the line. I hardly knew what words, if any, were spoken, so intensely did my hatred of all things Egyptian focus on him.  
  
Then I saw another man, standing behind the Jackal. At once I knew he was different -- he did not look Egyptian, although he was dressed like an Egyptian servant and did not have the air of anger and fear that most slaves had. He seemed familiar to me, somehow. Feeling my gaze upon him, he glanced at me, and his eyes were friendly. Then he noticed the Jackal with Aida, and he stared openly at her. A glimmer of curious recognition played across his face, and I knew he was Nubian.  
  
Someone shoved me, and I stumbled forward. I glanced back at Aida, but it was clear that the Jackal had some other destination in mind for my princess. The other man, the servant, was eying the pair cautiously, as if he did not wish to be seen. I felt a sudden desire to run up and speak to him, but at this moment the Jackal chose to address his soldiers.  
  
Don't take them to the copper mines, he demanded. These are all women -- they wouldn't last a day down there. The guards looked as surprised as I felt. Why should this man care what became of us? The faces of the friendly servant and Aida registered the same shock as the Egyptian Jackal turned back to them.  
  
The soldier holding my arm shrugged, and thrust me in another direction. I threw one look back at my princess -- and the Nubian man. He glanced at me again, and winked. Then he turned back to his study of Aida, and I was left wondering who he was, and why he was dressed as an Egyptian.  
  
Do you have a name? the Jackal asked my mistress, as I was pulled away.  
  
she responded proudly.  
  
The kind-looking servant had clearly put the name to his vague recognition of her face, because he started and burst out with: Your name is Aida? He caught himself instantly, and pulled back, but his eyes shone. It was the last glimpse I had of him then -- the guards led my line of slaves around a corner, and out of sight. Somehow, I wasn't worried that he would tell any of these jackals that they had captured the Nubian princess -- there was something in those mischievous eyes that inspired trust.  
  
Or was I just so desperate for a friendly face in this horrible nation that I would throw my faith away to anyone, like a fool?  
  


* * * * *  


  
That evening, in the slave quarters, I learned that Aida had been given to the Pharaoh's daughter as a gift. The princess Amneris's handmaidens had their own sleeping chamber -- Aida would not be coming here. For that I was grateful. The Nubian princess should not be forced to live in this squalor.  
  
Some of my friends were huddled together, weeping. I sat off by myself, sewing together a few scraps of cloth. I did not see the use of tears. Crying would not free us. Only Aida could do that.  
  
The other slaves were not in such low spirits. A whisper was going around the yard -- Mereb's coming tonight! -- Mereb is bringing us some fruit! This did not comfort the newly-arrived slaves, but many of the others were smiling and joking together. I glared at them. How could they have submitted so thoroughly, to find any joy in this miserable existence of servitude?  
  
A slender figure slipped through the gates to our enclosure, carrying a large basket. someone hissed across the dirt. The figure set his basket on the ground and bowed.  
  
Slaves from all corners of the camp swarmed over to the man, crying out happily. His basket proved to hold several large bunches of grapes, which were swiftly distributed among the Nubians. Everyone began talking at once, and even Aida's former handmaidens left their tearful cluster to partake in the revelry.  
  
Only I hung back, clutching my cloths. I was instinctively mistrustful of anyone who could move freely among the Egyptians. And why should a palace servant care about those worse off? But Mereb was a Nubian name. My curiosity was piqued. Still I waited.  
  
So he came to me. He slipped easily through the throng, and stepped lightly across the dirt. he said. His voice was light, matching his slim frame. I noticed you watching them.  
  
I was startled. Now that I could see his face clearly in the starlight, I recognized him as the servant who had stood with the Jackal and Aida before. He was also younger than I had first thought -- he looked to be about my age, not even twenty years old.  
  
Just now, you mean? I asked, not quite sure what I was saying.  
  
He grinned. That too, he said. But I meant this morning. I noticed you watching Aida and the captain this morning.  
  
I'm her friend, I explained, a little stiffly.  
  
And I am his. He correctly interpreted the horrified look on my face, and hastily stuck out a hand. My name is Mereb.  
  
I clasped it. I swallowed my impulse to demand how he could possibly consider an Egyptian his friend, and forced a smile instead. I'm sorry -- I don't know quite what to say. I'm new to this place.  
  
His eyes glinted with amusement. I guessed as much, he said solemnly. I wanted to vanish. Of course he knew I was a newcomer -- he seemed to know every slave in the enclosure. If you need any help, just ask. I know my way around. He winked at me.  
  
I'll keep that in mind, I replied drily, folding my arms across my chest. How did you come to call the Egyptian Jackal a friend? Slave loyalty?  
  
Mereb's brow furrowed for a moment in his confusion, but then his expression cleared and his grin returned. The Jackal? You mean, Captain Radames? He laughed a little. I should try calling him that, and we'd see how long he'd remain a friend! You know, he added, jumping from one subject to the next, one of the Egyptian gods has the head of a jackal. Anubis.  
  
What is he, the god of death and destruction? I asked bitterly.  
  
Mereb smiled. Not quite. But he does supposedly lead the dead to their final judgment.  
  
I shuddered, remembering my earlier impression of Radames -- the way he looked as though he were judging us. I wouldn't want Captain Jackal passing judgment on me, I said.  
  
He shrugged. He's not that bad. I mean, he is Egyptian, and all that, but deep down inside of him, there is kindness. I just stared at him. He did keep you out of the copper mines, Mereb reminded me. And he saved me from being beaten to death, when I was ten.  
  
I thought you were Nubian, but I must have been mistaken, I said scornfully, turning away and trying to conceal an odd feeling of disappointment. No Nubian would defend an Egyptian. You've become one of them.  
  
No, wait, Nehebka, he said hastily, putting a hand on my arm. I looked up at him, and our eyes met. That was my mistake, looking into his eyes -- I was immediately lost in them. Mereb seemed to be caught by the same strange force that held me. We stood there for a long moment, transfixed and motionless. Then my face went hot, and I looked down. He smiled awkwardly, equally embarrassed. I am Nubian, he said quietly. I only defend an Egyptian in remembrance of a day when he defended me. His voice went hard. But if I had to kill him to get out of here, I would. We owe these people nothing. Still, he added, his tone light again, I would rather go home without killing anyone, if possible.  
  
I nodded. I whispered. You recognized her, I know. She is the only one who could lead us all out of Egypt.  
  
He looked uncertain. So I believed, but she says she can do nothing, that she is only a slave like us.  
  
Once she sees all her people behind her, she will lead us, I replied stubbornly. Mereb...perhaps you can help me. All the slaves here know and like you.  
  
He bows slightly, grinning. Why, thank you.  
  
I'm only flattering you so that you help me, I told him severely, but he caught the glint of amusement in my eyes and shrugged the comment off. I need you to rally the slaves together, tell them that the princess of Nubia is here to save us.  
  
He was already shaking his head. I promised her I would tell no one.  
  
Not even her own people? Fine, then, you need only tell one person. Who has the most authority among the slaves? Tell them, and they will get the word around.  
  
I don't understand why you can't do this yourself.  
  
Because they have no reason to believe me, and the other girls who came with me are too frightened and miserable to support my word. I stared at the ground. And because I'm afraid, too. I don't have the gift to inspire others that Aida has, and I can never find the right words.  
  
And you think I have that gift? Mereb asked me, and something in his tone made my look up at him. His eyes betrayed a wealth of emotion: hope, shyness, a longing for approval, and something else that I could not quite discern.  
  
I hope so, I replied.  
  
He grinned, and the unnamed emotion was gone. I had come to understand that Mereb used his infectious smile as a mask, a means of concealing his true feelings. I wished, suddenly, that I knew what those feelings were -- but I shook off the desire as I felt the half-forgotten fabric in my hand.  
  
Also, could you get me some cloth? I asked, showing him the pathetic scraps I held. Pieces of fabric, any design, and thread. I don't expect miracles, but anything would be appreciated.  
  
I'm sure that the Nubians would all be willing to donate their scraps, and I'll see what I can steal, he said, eying the cloth dubiously. What are you trying to make?  
  
A robe fit for a princess, I responded, smiling.  
-------------------------------  
  
okay! one part down, four to go. i hope you like it so far. please review so i know if i should keep going or if i should stop and never write AIDAfic again...


	2. Hopes, Fears, and Mistakes -- Mereb

PART 2: Hopes, Fears, and Mistakes -- Mereb  
  
Life was simple before Radames invaded Nubia again. I was relatively happy, in spite of being a slave: I had nice clothes, a soft bed, a reasonable master, and a great network of robbery and bribery set up in the palace. I lived in relative comfort and the girls liked me. True, I was saving every coin I stole to pay my way to freedom and Nubia one day, and I hated the knowledge that I was a slave -- but nevertheless, I had a decent, simple life.  
  
It isn't so simple anymore. In the course of one day, I've rediscovered the princess I lost years ago, fallen in love with her, and met a slave who makes me feel a way that seriously challenges my being in love with the princess. I am no longer relatively happy. Instead, I'm half ecstatic and half dejected. Is this love, and who do I feel it for, and why can't I fall out of it?  
  
When I left Nehebka that night, my mind was a turmoil of emotions and questions. Somehow, I managed to find Benin -- the closest thing to a leader the Nubian slaves had -- and informed him of Aida's presence, then slipped back into the palace to find my bed. As Nehebka had suspected, the news circulated the slaves like wildfire, and by the next morning everyone knew to expect Aida's visit in the evening.  
  
Aida made a good show of annoyance with me, as I swore that I had only told one person -- which was, of course, the simple truth. But I think she was secretly pleased, or at least proud or flattered. Or maybe not. With the princess, it could be hard to tell.  
  
Conversing with Aida always left me feeling slightly off-balance. Because I worshipped her? Nah, couldn't be. She hadn't actually done anything worthy of worship -- so far. Yet whenever I was near her, I felt a little dizzy, as though I had drunk too much wine. I tripped over my words, pouring out sentiments of loyalty and earnest encouragement that ill-suited my usually mischievous personality. Conversations with the princess were unsettling experiences.  
  
In an attempt to recover my formerly smooth manner, I headed over to the Nubian camp in the late afternoon. Something prompted me to seek out Nehebka -- although she threw me a bit off-balance as well, it was a more comfortable unsettledness, and I certainly didn't worship the girl.  
  
Nehebka was in a tent, along with a gaggle of other women. They sat in a circle, sewing cloths together and talking faster than a ship could sail. I stood at the tent flap awkwardly, out of place among all these girls. Not that I mind being surrounded by girls, but women with needles make flirting ever so slightly uncomfortable -- you never know when a misplaced word will earn you a poke in the side with a small, irritatingly sharp object.  
  
I caught Nehebka's eye, and she stood and made her way around the others to reach me. Catching her hand, I pulled her outside to speak with her -- and belatedly realized I had nothing in particular to say. I stood silently, mind racing, just staring at her dumbly.  
  
she asked, with a quizzical look.  
  
Um...Aida's coming tonight, I said. So much for recovering my cool exterior.  
  
Her eyes glinted with amusement. So I've heard, she said solemnly.  
  
I spoke to her about it today, I added, desperately trying to validate the conversation. She seemed a little uncertain, but I convinced her to agree in the end.  
  
A shadow crossed Nehebka's face, as a cloud might pass over the sun, but it was gone before I could mention it. I'm glad, she commented, but her voice was oddly flat. She forced a smile that could almost pass for genuine. Thank you for the cloth, and the thread. We've been working on it all day -- well, when the jackals would let us out of their sight. Her voice was still bitter when she mentioned the Egyptians, and I was relieved -- her words didn't seem fake anymore.  
  
Can I see it? I asked, reaching to push open the tent flap again. I barely got a glimpse before.  
  
She smiled -- a real smile -- and shook her head. You've already seen more than any of the other men, she said, shoving me away gently. You'll all see tonight.  
  
I barely resisted the urge to grin foolishly. Although the other slaves liked me, and respected me for the things I stole for them, most of them still regarded me as a boy. No one had ever referred to me as a man before. All right, then, I said, with a mock pout. I'll leave you to your work.  
  
And to Nehebka's obvious surprise -- and partly to my own -- I hugged her swiftly before slipping away.  
  


* * * * *  


  
Darkness was only beginning to envelop the courtyard, and the stars had yet to appear. I led Aida cautiously to the Nubian quarters, tugging gently on her hand when she hesitated. Come on, princess, I hissed in her ear. Your people are expecting you tonight.  
  
She followed obediently, but I still sensed her reluctance, cloaking her movements like a shroud. If hesitance overpowered her at the wrong moment, it could get us all killed, I knew, and mentally sought out a way to dispel it.  
  
They believe in you, I told her quietly, as we neared the entrance to the enclosure. They all have faith that you can lead us out of slavery. They are depending on you, Aida.  
  
I know, she whispered, almost to herself. It's knowing what they want of me that scares me. She took a deep breath, and threw back her shoulders. She seemed to stand straighter, taller, and only a fool would not have recognized her as a princess.  
  
We stepped into the Nubian camp, and they were already waiting for her.  
  
The Nubians all gathered around her, staring at her, whispering to her. I could feel the desperate energy crackling through the air, surging with hope and fear and innumerable tensions. someone murmured, and she threw a frightened glance back at me. I shrugged helplessly -- I didn't know what she wanted me to do, or what she herself should be doing or saying. Should she take charge of the situation? Give a motivational speech, or lay out an escape plan? Greet everyone modestly, and ask their advice? What did we expect of her, anyway?  
  
Aida! Aida! I couldn't see who began it, but soon everyone had taken up the chant. The swell of voices seemed to isolate the princess, as though she were a solitary rock facing a roaring wave, or a ship in a storm.  
  
And out of that churning sea came a single woman, clutching a roll of fabric in her arms. Her determined stride countered the desperation in Aida's eyes, as she presented the cloth to her princess.  
  
Nehebka had told me that she always feared saying the wrong words, but her face concealed any uncertainty she might have felt. Another slave helped her unroll the fabric as she spoke. Your robe should be golden, your robe should be perfect, instead of this ragged concoction of thread. She indicated the huge robe, now completely unfolded and displayed in its coarse glory. For the robe was beautiful, in its roughness: a dismal collection of patterns and colors that somehow dazzled even as it inspired pity. My heart swelled with pride: for the robe, for Nubia, and for Nehebka's strength and determination. But may you be moved by its desperate beauty to give us new life, she continued, for we'd rather be dead than live in the squalor and shame of the slave. Nehebka smiled, offering up the Nubian handiwork to their princess. To the dance! she cried out. To the dance!  
  
Aida stared at the robe for a moment, then turned away, clearly racked by self doubt. The other slaves called out to her, dancing around her. It was a display of wild, unchecked emotion, twirling and leaping, as all the Nubians joined as one being, pure energy, dancing in support of their princess.  
  
Somehow I found the robe in my arms, and I slowly pushed my way through the mass of slaves to reach Aida. She was drawing confidence from the Nubians' spirit, strengthening her will. She stood proudly now, the sea no longer attacking but rather becoming a part of her. I saw this moment of completion, and offered her the robe.  
  
It's enough! she shouted, and accepted leadership. I placed the mantle on her shoulders and its crown on her head, the long folds of the robe rippling down to the floor.  
  
Aida was ours.  
  


* * * * *  


  
Later that night, after I had escorted Aida back to the palace, I went to find Nehebka. I wasn't sure why I wanted to see her again, but I felt that I ought to congratulate her on the swift completion of the robe. Besides, I was still bouncing around happily from the excitement Aida had inspired in all of us.  
  
I could hear many of the slaves toasting their newfound hopes in a large tent, drinking wine I had stolen for them, but Nehebka was sitting alone by the high fence that closed the Nubian slaves off from the outside world. She was staring out at that world, eyes peering through the darkness. I crouched beside her, trying to seek out the focus of her gaze. Across the dusty ground, between the few scattered trees, I could just see moonlight glinting off the waters of the Nile.  
  
The river that led to Nubia.  
  
You should be celebrating with the others, I murmured in her ear. Part of this is your victory, too. You came up with the idea for the robe, and you presented it to Aida.  
  
But she wouldn't accept it from me, Nehebka said quietly, not looking at me. Only from you. I didn't find the right words to say to her, did I?  
  
She had looked so sure of herself before -- how could she still lack confidence? Of course you said the right words! I told her vehemently. She just wasn't quite ready to hear them.  
  
Nehebka shook her head. I'm so useless here. Just another worthless slave.  
  
No, Nehebka. You believe in Aida, perhaps more strongly than anyone else. They take heart in your faith. They knew of her presence through me, but they follow her because of you.  
  
Is that all I'm good for? she whispered. I exist only because I believe in someone else?  
  
I admitted. Maybe life should be measured less by what we say, or do, but rather by how much we love and are loved. You believe in Aida, -- I reached out to stroke her hair -- and I believe in you.  
  
Time stopped.  
  
When did this happen? When did I choose Nehebka over Aida? What was the word the said, or the gesture she made, that made up my mind? Or was it because Aida was too grand and distant for me to understand -- and Nehebka was real?  
  
This is a bad idea,' I thought, but it was too late -- I was already kissing her.  
  
Reluctantly, I ended the kiss, pulling away. She reached out to me, tracing my cheek with her fingers. I clasped her hand and gently pulled it down. I said quietly. Her eyes met mine, betraying a mixture of love, confusion, and uncertainty. We can't fall in love, I told her, hoping I could make the words sound true.  
  
It's a little too late for that, she said, trying to smile away the hurt.  
  
I know, but...oh, gods, two days ago I didn't even know you existed!  
  
And two days ago Aida hadn't come to give you hope, she said, and I realized that she was misinterpreting my words. You're in love with her, aren't you? You never meant to kiss me, it just happened because everyone's feeling elated and hopeful, and now you're regretting it...  
  
No! No, I just... I tightened my grip on her hand, leaning closer to her as I searched for the right words. There is a time, there is a place, when love should conquer all, I said, fumbling slightly, but needing to make her understand that the pain in her eyes was slowly killing me. The rest of life is pushed aside as truth and reason fall. But only if that selfishness can lead to something good.... I clasped both of her hands and pulled her close to me again. If we fell in love now, it would be too dangerous, I whispered. We would be putting each other before the good of our people.  
  
We can help Aida and love each other at the same time, she insisted.  
  
I shook my head. What if...what if it came down to a choice? If Aida and I both had our lives threatened, and you could only save one of us? That's why love is selfish -- you would want to save me, but Aida is more important than either of us. I'm afraid that if we fell in love, we would forget that.  
  
It will never come to that, Nehebka murmured. It can't.  
  
I hope not, but what if? She looked away from me. When we're free, when Aida leads us back to Nubia, then maybe we could....  
  
Her eyes met mine. I love you, Mereb, she said firmly. I know I've only known you for two days, I know it might be dangerous, and I don't know why I still love you, but I do. I can't help it.  
  
I know, I replied. I can't help it, either.  
  
I should have stood then, and walked away, but I didn't, and neither did she. Life used to be simple,' I thought ruefully, and kissed her again.  
  


* * * * *  


  
The next morning, I couldn't help but be in high spirits. I was in love, Aida was going to set us free, and I was on my way to the riverbanks, where (I had been told) Nehebka and the other women were at work washing clothes.  
  
As I approached the river, from the direction of the Nubian quarters, I could see the women picking up their baskets and walking away toward the palace. Cursing under my breath, I broke into a light jog, hoping to catch Nehebka before she followed them.  
  
Instead, I caught Captain Radames in the act of kissing a slave woman. As they pulled apart, I saw that the woman was Aida. I stared at them, my mouth dropping open. Aida noticed me, shot me a frightened glance, and ran off. Radames looked at me, and let out a little laugh, embarrassed.  
  
Aida and Radames.  
  
Oh, no.  
---------------------------------------  
  
2 parts down, 3 to go....keep reviewing, please!


End file.
